


Overtures

by FoundlingMother



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Don’t copy to another site, Epistolary, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, M/M, Post-Avengers (2012), Pre-Thor: The Dark World, Protective Thor (Marvel), Reconciliation, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love, Sneaky Frigga (Marvel), Touch-Starved, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:18:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21851074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoundlingMother/pseuds/FoundlingMother
Summary: Thor receives a note. Two unapologetic sentences in Loki's neat penmanship.It ignites the steady burn of Thor's anger anew.
Relationships: Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 47





	Overtures

“You appear tired. Are you sleeping well?”

“Fine,” Loki hums. He lifts a book from the new supply Frigga sent, tracing a finger down its spine, across the gold leaf title.

“The shadows beneath your eyes suggest otherwise,” Frigga remarks.

Loki purses his lips. He flips through the pages of the book. “The Einherjar are loud. The prison remains bright at all hours. It is not an environment designed to facilitate restfulness.”

Loki pauses on an ink sketch of a tiger stalking amongst the undergrowth. Vanir art, not Midgardian. The tiger has two sets of nostrils.

Loki pictures Vanaheim; its unexplored, undisturbed wilds. He could conjure a near-perfect landscape.

Somewhere under the sun. In the southern lands where it snows less and the days stretch longer.

“You would tell me were it something more?”

_No_, Loki thinks, _it would make no difference_. Frigga cannot chase away the oppressive darkness of Sanctuary. She cannot erase Loki’s memory of those chalky fingers digging into his temple, plunging him into memory—drowning him.

Memory. Is it memory? Sometimes it’s hard to sort reality from what’s false.

“Loki,” Frigga breathes.

Loki tenses. He’s snarling, throat tight.

He forces a neutral expression.

“Loki, if there’s anything more, you can tell me. I will listen. Trust me, my son.”

Loki’s heart stutters.

“Trust you? Can I?” He whispers, every word shattered glass. Loki spits them to wound Frigga, but they cut him deep, also. “You lied to me all my life. Whatever Odin’s true motivations, he thought the lie served to benefit something. You did not, yet you lied.”

After a period of prolonged silence, Loki chances a glance toward Frigga, expecting her illusion’s absence.

Frigga remains, eyes downcast, wearing hardship in the typically joyful lines of her face.

“You are right,” she concedes, pinching her eyes shut.

The urge to reach out a comfort her burns within Loki. Yet, he cannot touch her. Never again.

He wants to wring Odin’s neck. He wants to tear his hair from his scalp. He wants to break every fine piece of furniture in the room against the white walls of his cell.

Loki wants Frigga to leave. He tosses his book to the floor and watches it skid, reaching the hem of Frigga’s skirts.

Her illusion dissolves, flickering out in a wash of golden-green light.

* * *

_“No good will come of cutting him off from me. I am his mother. I can help heal him. He is wounded, Odin. You must see that.”_

_“I will not risk the Nine Realms—I will not risk you—to indulge Loki’s ingratitude and rebellion!”_

* * *

Frigga wrings the skin of her palm between thumb and forefinger.

Trust does not come naturally to Loki. Frigga suspects Loki only ever trusted his family.

She and Odin lied to him, a betrayal in Loki’s eyes, and she cannot fault him for that position. Odin may, but she cannot.

That leaves Thor, alone, holding the last fragments of Loki’s trust.

Thor, who will not visit Loki. Thor, who fights to secure Nornheim. Thor, who clings to anger, smothering all other emotions related to Loki and his wrongdoings.

She cannot fault Thor, either.

But her sons’ suffering roots deeper the longer they are kept apart.

Frigga nods, sure of her course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doesn't one need 100 WIPs to be satisfied? Doesn't one need the anxious knot of indecision in their stomach every time they consider what they should work on writing?
> 
> From here on out, it will be Thor's POV. Consider this part a prologue :)
> 
> Kudos and comments are my lifeblood.


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